


Alpha

by luridlibrary



Category: Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls - Fandom, The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood, Bloodplay, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pain, Violence, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 14:52:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1652630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luridlibrary/pseuds/luridlibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Farkas and the Dragonborn share a bestial night together in Markarth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alpha

The door to the Silver Blood Inn banged open, letting in a gust of cold night air. Several people looked up as Suleen and Farkas walked in, though most paid them no mind.

Suleen was happy to be someplace warm. Her outfit of boiled leather could never keep out the chill of a windy Morning Star night, even with the heavy fur cloak she had taken to wearing while in Skyrim. She was also happy to be someplace that served food and drink, as Farkas had been wishing out loud for a mug of ale every five minutes for the last hour.

“An ale for me, and one for my fellow Companion!” Farkas boomed when the two of them reached the bar. The barmaid, a stern-faced, gray-haired woman, looked unimpressed. Farkas flashed her a friendly smile, and she walked off down one of the inn’s hallways.

“I’ve been dying for an ale,” said Farkas as they sat down on a pair of wooden barstools.

“Indeed?” said Suleen with a smirk. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Farkas laughed out loud, which earned him a few annoyed looks.

Suleen took off her cloak and put it in the pack at her feet. Leaning forward and resting her elbows on the bar, she took a look around the place. Unlike the rest of Markarth, the inn was warm and inviting, with a large fire burning in the hearth and the familiar scent of baked bread and stewed meat. Most of the other patrons appeared to be residents of the city, though here and there sat a traveler or sellsword. A bard stood in the corner, plucking out a blandly pleasant melody on his lute. Across from them, on the other side of the bar, a man in leathers was having a quiet argument with another, younger barmaid. Aside from him, however, everyone else seemed content to sit peacefully and enjoy their food and drink.

As she took in the room's stone walls and floors, Suleen leaned closer to Farkas and whispered “I'll bet even the beds are made of stone.”

“Let’s just hope the ale doesn’t taste like gravel,” Farkas replied, not bothering to whisper.

A moment later, the barmaid returned and placed two brimming tankards of dark brown ale on the bartop.

“To good friends and good fights!” said Farkas, hoisting his tankard in the air.

“To good fights and good coin!” Suleen said, doing the same. She took a long pull of the rich, warm ale. Farkas drained half his tankard in one gulp, wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand.

“I like this inn,” said Farkas.

“You like every inn you've ever been to,” said Suleen.

Farkas laughed again. “That's true! All I need at the end of a long day is a warm fire, a soft bed, and a mug of ale.”

Suleen couldn't help but smile. “I guess you're a man of simple tastes.”

“I have been told I'm simple,” Farkas agreed.

Suleen stared at him for a moment, then burst out in a laugh loud enough to rival Farkas’. She clapped him on the back and took another gulp of ale.

She and Farkas had only been traveling together for several weeks, but the pair of them fought like a well-oiled Centurion. Farkas’ tendency to charge straight into a fight without any apparent strategy often baffled their opponents, giving Suleen time to slip unnoticed into the shadows and begin lodging arrows in their throats. And their chemistry was obvious both on and off the battlefield. As the two of them sipped their drinks, they slipped into their usual end-of-the-day banter. Though she would scarcely admit it to the glory-obsessed warhound sitting next to her, this was quickly becoming Suleen's favorite part of the day. Adventuring meant that she had the coin for food and beds each night, and Farkas always made her laugh into her tankard with his dramatic retelling of the day's battles. Tonight was shaping up to be as relaxing as she could have hoped.

The peaceful moment was shattered by the sound of an iron tankard striking the wall. The inn quieted somewhat as everyone turned their gaze to the source of the noise.

“I said give me another ale, now!” The man in leathers was now standing in front of the young barmaid, jabbing a finger in her face. His voice was slurred and his face was flushed.

“You’re out of coin!” said the barmaid, crossing her arms. “We've been over this, Cosnach. I won't have you causing trouble in here every night!”

“Trouble?” Cosnach shouted. “Trouble? With everything that's going on in this gods-forsaken city, you think I'm the one causing trouble?” He picked up another tankard and threw it on the ground.

Suleen looked around at the other patrons. None of them tried to intervene. Indeed, some of them had even gone back to their drinks and conversations, their bored expressions evidence that this sort of outburst was common. Beside her, Farkas watched the situation unfold, but Suleen put a hand on his arm to keep him in his seat. The last thing they needed right now was a hulking warrior in metal armor drawing a weapon.

As Cosnach made to throw another tankard, Suleen stood up from her stool. “Hey!” she said, keeping her hand close to the dagger sheathed at her hip. “I think you need to calm down.”

Cosnach stared at her for a moment, the empty tankard grasped in his raised hand, and let out a shrill, incredulous laugh. “And who in Oblivion are you?”

“I’m with the Companions,” said Suleen. “I normally get paid to solve problems, but bullies like you get my services for free.”

A sneer twisted Cosnach’s face, and he spat on the floor.

“Our barmaid deserves better,” Suleen continued, ignoring the wad of phlegm on the floor. “I suggest you apologize to her.” She pointed to the barmaid, whose expression looked halfway between grateful and annoyed.

Cosnach stared at Suleen for a moment, his expression darkening. Around her, Suleen realized that the inn was now completely silent, with all eyes on them.

“You know what I think?” Cosnach finally said. “I think strangers need to mind their own business.” He pulled a dagger out of a sheath at his waist and lunged at Suleen.

Quick as a sabre cat, Suleen dove to her left. Cosnach's charge was clumsy, and when he missed his target, he tumbled face-first onto the stone floor. Suleen whirled around to face him. With surprising quickness, Cosnach was back on his feet, but Suleen was ready. As he charged at her again, Suleen reached out and grabbed Cosnach’s knife hand by the wrist. When he tried to swing at her with his other hand, she grabbed that one too. Suleen slammed him up against the wall before he had time to react, still holding his arms at bay. She squeezed the wrist of his knife hand until he cried out and dropped the dagger. With the toe of her boot, Suleen kicked the weapon out of reach.

“Now,” Suleen said, breathless and glaring at the disarmed man in front of her, “are you going to apologize, or am I going to have to beat it out of you?” Cosnach let out a pained grunt. Suleen waited for him to answer, but when no apology came, she tightened her grip even more.

The moment stretched on, and Cosnach remained stubbornly silent. Suleen was beginning to wonder if the man would pass out before she got an apology out of him. His face was twisted in pain and anger. His breath was quick and stilted; the sour smell of it blasted in Suleen's face, but she forced herself to endure it.

Cosnach looked around. Suleen thought he might have been about to relent. Then, without warning, he headbutted her.

Suleen cried out in pain and released her grip, letting Cosnach free. She felt a warm stream of blood begin gushing from her nose onto her chin and chest. Before she could reach up to protect her face, Cosnach's fist flew at her, landing on her cheekbone.

Around her, the inn exploded to life as patrons stood and cheered. Even Farkas got up from his stool and shouted, “Fight! Fight!”

Suleen was dazed for a moment but quickly rallied herself. As Cosnach aimed another swing at her, she saw her opening. She pivoted to her left and slammed her fist into Cosnach's jaw. Cosnach stumbled slightly but remained standing.

The two began circling each other, both combatants' fists raised defensively. Suleen could hear the inn's patrons laughing and placing bets on who would emerge victorious. Cosnach feinted another punch, and as Suleen moved to dodge it, he swung wildly with his other fist, hitting her on the side of the head. The blow was sloppy, however, and merely grazed her temple. She riposted with a quick jab straight to the middle of her opponent’s face.

Cosnach's nose was now bleeding just as copiously as Suleen's, the red droplets sprinkling the stone floor. He touched his face and looked in shock at the blood on his fingertips. Suleen readied her fist for another blow, but before it could land, Cosnach threw his arms over his face and crouched on the ground. “I yield, I yield!” he shouted in a quavering voice. He waited a few seconds to make sure Suleen wasn't going to hit him again, then uncovered his bloodied face. “I'm sorry, Hroki,” he said, looking over at the young barmaid.

“Go sleep it off, Cosnach,” said Hroki, pointing to the door.

The inn's noise level began to dwindle back to normal as people returned to their seats, some exchanging coin. Cosnach threw one last dark look at Suleen, and stormed out the door.

"Well, that was quick," Suleen said to Farkas as she returned to his side. "I was hoping for more."

Farkas gave her a long, appraising look. “You're hurt,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Suleen scoffed. “What, this?” she said, indicating her bloodied nose. “It's nothing! Haven’t you ever had a nosebleed before?”

“We should make sure you're alright,” Farkas said, ignoring her question.

There was a serious edge to his voice that Suleen was not accustomed to. She stared at him in confusion and noticed that his face was oddly flushed. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead, and his breathing was heavier than usual. He almost looked like he had been the one brawling, not Suleen.

Concerned, Suleen looked over at Hroki. “A room, if you please?” she called to the barmaid.

Hroki fished a key out of her pocket and tossed it over to Suleen, who caught it in one hand. “Down the hall and up the stairs,” she said, pointing down one of the inn's two stone corridors. “There's a washbasin in there, if you want to do something about that nose.”

“You have my thanks,” said Suleen. She dropped some coins on the bartop and stooped to pick up her belongings before walking in the direction Hroki indicated. Farkas followed close behind.

When she reached the end of the corridor, Suleen slipped the key into the heavy iron door and pushed it open. The room was small and sparse. It was lit by a flickering oil lamp, and the only piece of furniture not made of stone was a single wooden chair.

“Wow,” Suleen said, looking around. “I was actually kidding about the beds being made of stone, but-”

“I've never seen you fight like that,” Farkas interrupted. He closed the door behind them, shutting out the sounds coming from down the hall.

Suleen looked back at him. “Of course you have,” she said, creasing her brow in confusion. “I've lost count of how many things we've killed since we left Whiterun.”

“Yes. But every time we've done battle, you've disappeared into the shadows and picked off our enemies from a hiding place.”

“It's a legitimate strategy,” Suleen muttered, frowning. She knew how the Companions looked down upon such methods. Farkas was practically the only one who didn't subject her to long lectures about glory and honor after each fight.

“I meant no offense,” said Farkas. He was still staring at her strangely, and his ice-blue eyes looked darker than usual as they bored into her. “But it is good to see you fight with your fists.”

“Well, I'm glad you're pleased, but I need to get cleaned up,” Suleen said, an impatient edge to her voice. Though her nose had stopped bleeding, her mouth and chin still glistened red, and every now and then a droplet of blood fell from her chin onto her chest. “Do you see a rag anywhere?”

Suleen surveyed the tiny room, finally finding a small washcloth sitting atop a stone shelf. Beside it was a metallic bowl, evidently the washbasin promised by Hroki, though it was dry and empty.

“Hand me that waterskin from your pack,” said Suleen.

Behind her, Farkas remained silent and motionless. Suleen turned around and gave him a quizzical look while lifting the rag to her face. Before the ragged cloth could make contact, however, Farkas reached out and took hold of her wrist.

His grasp was gentle, but his hand burned her skin like a fever. He swallowed hard and looked like he was about to say something, but instead merely licked his lips. His gaze locked upon Suleen’s bloodied mouth. With each breath he took, his nostrils widened slightly. Suleen got the strange impression that he was smelling the blood on her face.

“Farkas,” she whispered, hoping to snap him out of whatever had come over him.

At the sound of his name, his eyes darted up to meet her own. The grip of his fingers around her wrist tightened, though not enough to hurt.

Suleen stared back at him, halfway between confused and intrigued. The only time she had ever seen Farkas take on such a serious aspect was right before one of his bestial hunts, when the moon shone bright and the scent of prey was on the air.

Farkas leaned in closer and inhaled several quick, deep breaths. A small shiver ran through him, along with a sudden tension in his muscles. Suleen got the impression that he was holding something back. Or perhaps waiting for permission. Almost unconsciously, Suleen opened her mouth slightly and closed the distance between her and Farkas a few more inches.

Farkas hesitated for one more moment, and then slammed his lips onto hers.

Suleen was stunned into paralysis for a moment. With the way Farkas had been staring at her, she didn't know what she expected to happen, but it hadn't been this. The fact that he hadn't even waited for her to wipe the blood from her face added another level of strangeness. Nevertheless, Suleen felt a wave of heat race up her neck as Farkas' prickly beard raked her chin. She relaxed and leaned in closer, pressing her chest against the cold metal of his breastplate, and slipped her tongue between his lips. In her mouth, she could taste the iron tang of her own blood mingling with Farkas' eager tongue. Her free hand she buried in the messy tangle of his hair.

When Suleen pressed her body closer to his, Farkas pressed back, eventually shoving her up against the rough stone wall. He finally released his grip on her wrist, and wrapped his arms around her. His hand rested at the waist of her leather breeches, giving it a slight tug. He pulled away from Suleen's lips and gazed at her, his brow furrowed with an unspoken question. When his fingers tugged at the thick fabric again, Suleen gave a quick nod.

Her consent given, Farkas untied the lacings on Suleen’s leather breeches and shoved his hand unceremoniously between her legs. His fingers were rough and somewhat clumsy, but Suleen felt a wave of pleasure wash over her as he spread her wetness between his fingers. She let out a sigh that Farkas cut off by returning his blood-stained mouth to hers. Within moments, she felt a familiar pressure building. As she began to breathe harder and move her hips along with his hand, Farkas rubbed faster. His other hand gripped the back of her neck, and Suleen could feel his nails digging into her skin. She felt a sting of pain on her lip, and realized that Farkas must have bitten her. With a fresh taste of blood on her tongue, Suleen let out a gasping, shuddering sigh as her pleasure boiled over.

Farkas pulled back from Suleen’s mouth. His beard and lips were smudged with the blood from Suleen’s nose. On his face was a wicked grin, a far cry from his usual kindly smile. Suleen couldn’t help but return it.

Before Suleen could say or do anything else, Farkas scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. It was made of stone, just like everything else in Markarth, but it was padded with a covered pile of straw. Suleen lay back on the soft surface and watched as Farkas disrobed, letting his metal armor clatter to the floor noisily. Without taking her eyes off of him, she slipped out of her leather jerkin and breeches.

It had been a long while since Suleen had been with a Nord as powerfully built as Farkas, and she couldn’t help but stare in appreciation. Now fully unclothed, Farkas looked down at her, his expression almost feral. Suleen caught a clean, musky scent rising from his exposed skin. His limbs were hard and muscular, his body hair dark and wiry. 

Farkas moved so quickly that Suleen barely had time to register that he was on top of her. He gave her a rough, messy kiss before his mouth moved on to her neck. She felt his canines brush against her throat, and savored the small pinpricks of pain they left on her skin. His hands pawed at her breasts, and his mouth moved down from her throat to her nipples. As he sucked and nipped at her skin, he pressed his hips against hers, his cock flush with her opening.

Despite his increasingly hungry attentions, however, Suleen once again got the sense that Farkas was holding back. His back and shoulders quivered with some unseen restraint. His breath was ragged and stilted. Though Suleen returned his touches and kisses with equal fervor, Farkas seemed oddly tense and hesitant. She wondered if he was waiting for permission again. She reached down with one hand and gave him a few slick pumps before guiding him inside her.

In the space of an instant, all of Farkas' hesitation dissolved. As he pushed into her, he let out a low groan that sounded somewhere between pleasure and anguish. Rather than build slowly, he immediately began a rough, hammering rhythm, withdrawing almost completely before slamming himself in again.

Suleen’s entire body bounced almost violently with each thrust, and she had to brace her arms on the wall behind her to avoid hitting her head. As he pounded into her, Suleen felt sharp waves of pleasure tinged with pain. If the bedframe had been made of wood rather than stone, she thought, Farkas might have reduced it to splinters.

Farkas seemed intent on kissing, sucking, and biting every inch of Suleen’s skin he could reach from his position. Even as his thrusting grew harder and more insistent, his mouth and hands never stopped moving. With one hand he groped and pinched her nipples; the other he ran insistently up her side and down to her hips. He kissed her mouth like a man starving, even licking the remainder of the blood from her face before moving his mouth down to her neck again.

As his mouth moved from her neck to her shoulder, Suleen felt a sharp jolt of pain where his teeth touched her skin. He hadn’t actually bitten her, but merely grazed his canines along her flesh. Nonetheless, she felt a trickle of blood run down her shoulder.

Suleen looked down at Farkas, and froze.

Where just before Farkas had been smooth-skinned, Suleen now saw a rough growth of black fur sprouting from his back and shoulders. His hands, still roughly groping all over Suleen’s body, were slowly turning into long, sharp claws. His grunts and groans of pleasure became growls and snarls. Through it all, his body itself was growing larger. Suleen could feel Farkas’ cock expanding inside her, stretching her soft, pliant flesh.

“Farkas?” she said breathlessly.

He ignored her. His clawed fingers raked her skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake. At her shoulder, she saw, he lapped eagerly at the new, bloody wound he had created.

Suleen was torn between fear and wonder. She had seen him change several times before, but that was in the heat of battle. This was something else entirely. And the way that he focused on the blood on her shoulder made her wonder if he would create other wounds, maybe even bigger ones.

Nevertheless, Suleen was flush with excitement. She opened her legs wider to accommodate Farkas’ increasing girth. He continued his slow transformation, his fur growing longer and his claws growing sharper. With each thrust, Suleen felt like he was burying himself deeper and deeper into her, making her cry out in an agony of pleasure.

Just before the intensity threatened to overwhelm her, Suleen felt another stab of pain as Farkas bit her shoulder again. Her increasing anxiety threatened to turn into full-blown panic, but it was tempered by pure exhilaration. The pleasure that stabbed through her was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She knew she’d have to put an end to it before Farkas did any real damage, but she wanted to wait as long as she could. She allowed herself one more moment, reaching down with one hand to furiously rub herself. Even as she felt a new trickle of blood run down her shoulder, she let out a ragged sigh as she came for the second time that night.

As soon as the last spasm of pleasure subsided, Suleen returned her attention to the beast rutting on top of her. “Farkas!” she said. When he ignored her, she repeated herself, much louder. “Farkas! Farkas! Listen to me, you damn dog!”

Farkas raised his head from where he had been slurping at the blood on her shoulder. He was almost completely transformed. His eyes were the same ice-blue color, but his face was unrecognizably bestial. He sniffed at her with his furry snout and raised his hackles slightly.

“Alright, I warned you,” Suleen said. With her free hand, she gathered as much strength as she could from her prone position, and punched Farkas on the jaw. He gave a high-pitched whine, then growled. Before he could do anything else, she landed a quick flurry of punches on his face. Now stunned, Farkas raised himself up to avoid her blows. Suleen saw her moment of opportunity, and aimed one last, fully-wound strike to his snout.

The moment her fist landed for the last time, Farkas seemed to regain his senses - if not his human form - and pulled out of her. Suleen sat up and leaned forward. With one hand, she clenched her fist, ready to strike again if necessary. With her other hand, she gripped Farkas’ massive, swollen cock and began pumping. Within seconds, he burst into her hand, the hot, white liquid spilling over onto Suleen’s belly and thighs. Farkas let out a sound halfway between a roar and a howl.

And then, in just a matter of moments, he began returning to his normal, human form. The coarse, black fur retreated into his skin. His snout retracted, and his frame shrunk back to its usual size. He sat up on his knees between Suleen’s open legs, out of breath and with a confused look on his face. When he looked down at Suleen, his cock in her hand and her skin drenched in his seed, it seemed to come back to him.

“Did you know that was going to happen?” Suleen asked, catching her breath. She relinquished Farkas’ cock and wiped her hand on a nearby rag.

Farkas knit his brow, the effort of thinking evident on his bruised face. “I guess it was the blood,” he said thoughtfully. “The blood from that fight. Your blood.”

“Yes, I gathered as much,” Suleen said, indicating the bleeding bite wound on her shoulder. “I knew you were a werewolf, but are you part vampire as well?”

“Shor’s beard!” said Farkas, ignoring the jest. “Did I do that to you?”

Suleen couldn’t help but laugh. His concerned, caring manner was so utterly different from the beast he had just been. “Don’t worry, I had it under control,” she said.

“I don’t doubt that,” said Farkas, lightly touching his bruised jaw. “Even still, please forgive me.”

In answer, Suleen leaned forward and kissed him.

Farkas stood up and retrieved the water skin Suleen had asked for earlier. Together, they washed up and tended each other’s wounds.

“I’ll try to control myself next time,” Farkas said as he helped rinse the blood from Suleen’s bite.

Suleen touched her shoulder, then smeared her hot blood over his bottom lip and whispered, “Don’t.”


End file.
